


It’s Always Been You

by MeMyselfandI2008



Category: DuckTales (Cartoon 2017)
Genre: Alcohol, Closeted Character, Cousin Incest, Drunken Flirting, Flirting, Fluff, Incest, M/M, One Shot, Secret Crush, Underage Drinking, Unrequited Love, Young Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:27:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23684623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MeMyselfandI2008/pseuds/MeMyselfandI2008
Summary: Gladstone couldn’t help but giggle lightly, “You wanna see something cool?” he asked, trying to ignore how hot his face felt.“No.”Ouch, not even a glimpse of hesitation.“You sure?” Gladstone elongated the last word, a grin spreading across his face. He wasn’t drunk—not fully at least—and if Lady Luck was on his side, he knew exactly how this conversation would turn out.Donald took a small sip from the drink, “Positive.”
Relationships: Donald Duck/Gladstone Gander
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	It’s Always Been You

**Author's Note:**

> I got this idea awhile ago and thought, “You know what, I’m gonna write it.”
> 
> So, yeah... sorry if this is poorly written, or the characters are a bit OOC. This is only my second fic for the fandom, and Gladstone hasn’t been in many episodes. I tried to write him as how he came off to me in the show.
> 
> Anyways, enough of me rambling, I hope you enjoy reading!

The red, plastic cup held heavy in his hand, gaze fixed on the liquid that swished around in it as he twirled the drink, having stopped listening to the group chatting to him long ago. You’d think with his luck, he’d be enjoying himself. He _should_ be enjoying himself. There were plenty of ~~boys~~ girls he could flirt with and sneak into his house, plenty of alcohol to drink (he was on his fourth cup, already), plenty of teenagers to talk to and make dumb decisions with, yet he still felt so...

Lonely? That wasn’t the right word, surely. He silently hoped his luck would pull something out that would give him an excuse to leave, or just have him go unnoticed as he slipped through the back door. Anything would be nice.

“Just wait here a sec,” a familiar voice caught his attention through the noise of the party and soon he found his focus shifting from his cup to his two cousins. Della was setting Donald on the couch, rambling about how much fun he was going to have once she introduced him to a few of her friends.

As Della left, Donald giving her a quick, forced smile, the unlucky duck sank back into the couch, a tiredness in his eyes. He definitely wasn’t enjoying himself, and he’d only just gotten there.

Gladstone couldn’t help but smirk, taking a quick sip from his drink, telling everyone that had started talking with him that he’d talk with them later—yeah, right. He carefully looked himself over, making sure there wasn’t a stain on his pink polo shirt, glancing in a nearby mirror to fixing his already perfect hair.

He quickly grabbed a cup off of one of the designated drinking tables and made his way over to his cousin, a skip in his step.

Donald didn’t seem to notice his arrival until the red cup was in front of his face, “Hey, Donnie,” Gladstone offered him a sly smirk.

“Buzz off,” Donald huffed, shooting a glare at the luckier of the two.

“Oh, c’mon,” Gladstone put on a hurt expression, “Is it so wrong to wanna see how my cuz is doing?” he gently shook the cup he still held out to Donald, “I even brought you a drink as a sign of peace.”

Donald rolled his eyes, taking the cup, “Whatever...” he mumbled, staring into the liquid, as if there would be something horrific inside. Of course, knowing Donald’s luck, there would be, and it wouldn’t even be Gladstone’s fault, but he’d still get blamed for it by the angry duck.

Gladstone couldn’t help but giggle lightly, “You wanna see something cool?” he asked, trying to ignore how hot his face felt.

“No.”

Ouch, not even a glimpse of hesitation.

“You sure?” Gladstone elongated the last word, a grin spreading across his face. He wasn’t drunk—not fully at least—and if Lady Luck was on his side, he knew exactly how this conversation would turn out.

Donald took a small sip from the drink, “Positive.”

“Well, that’s a shame,” Gladstone faked a solemn sigh, shaking his head in disappointment, “It would be a nice place to take a future girlfriend...”

Donald seemed to perk up at that, though the suspicion in his gaze wasn’t unnoticed, “Well...” he trailed off, shifting his gaze to the side, “I guess it couldn’t hu—”

In one swift motion, Gladstone grabbed Donald’s wrist and pulled him to his feet, practically dragging him through the sea of teenagers that stood between them and the front door.

“Uh—hang on! I’ve gotta—”

He felt Donald struggle against his grip. He probably wanted to see where Della was, but that would take too long for Gladstone’s liking. Plus, she might want to come with them, and that was definitely not something he had in mind. Not that he didn’t like Della, he just wanted Donald to himself for a bit—that wasn’t too much to ask for, was it? He didn’t think so.

“Just—Gladstone, _hold on_!” Donald managed to pull his hand out of his cousin’s grip just as they stepped out into the cold night air, gaze piercing, untrusting, “What's the big idea?” he snapped, crossing his arms, eyes unwavering.

He probably thought Gladstone was planning to lead him into a prank or something of the like. Though, with how often they fought, Gladstone wouldn't blame him for thinking like that. He sighed, turning his focus to the half empty cup he still held in his hands, unsure of what exactly he should say. He couldn't just _tell_ Donald he was bored of the party, that seeing him gave him an excuse to leave and even get to spend some time with him like they had used to do.

Donald’s gaze grew softer, and Gladstone silently wondered if it was pity that he had seen in his eyes before he turned to look back at the house bustling with noise. He seemed to think over his options, maybe wondering if he was going to regret what he was going to do next, "What did you want to show me?" he asked, turning back to face Gladstone, the faintest of smile’s on his face.

The luckier of the two couldn't help but return the smile, wrapping his free arm around Donald's shoulder, slowly guiding him towards the direction of the woods, "Trust me, Sailor, you're gonna love it," he reassured, taking a sip from his drink.

Donald rolled his eyes at the nickname. He had mentioned wanting to join the navy _once_ , but apparently that was enough for Gladstone to grant him with the new nickname.

+

After a lot of walking, and a few complaints from Donald about Gladstone getting them lost, they arrived at their destination. Gladstone pulled several branches to the side, stepping over a few rocks that were on the path. He turned, offering his hand to Donald, who begrudgingly took it as he stepped over the rocks, nearly tripping over his own feet in the process.

“This better be worth it,” Donald grumbled.

Gladstone gave him a light nudge in the side with his elbow, “See for yourself.”

The view was definitely something. The night sky was reflected in the dark water of the lake, various insects buzzed around it, a rowboat sat off in the distance that a couple was occupying. It was a peaceful atmosphere.

“Pretty nice, right?” Gladstone couldn’t help the smug look on his face as he took a seat on the grass, patting the empty space beside him. 

Donald scoffed, rolling his eyes, “It’s not _that_ impressive,” he shot back, sitting down beside his cousin, “I mean... there’s other places nicer than this,” he gestured to their quiet surroundings.

Gladstone shook his head, unable to keep a small laugh from escaping him, “You’re not wrong, but you still can’t deny it’s a nice view.”

The unlucky duck gave a small hum in reply, a comfortable silence settling over them as they watched the different wildlife settling in the water.

“You know,” Gladstone spoke up, voice quiet, “I’ve been thinkin’ about changing my hairstyle,” he gestured to his hair. He wasn’t sure why he brought it up. No, that was a lie. He knew exactly why he brought it up.

“It makes you look like a stegosaurus,” Donald said flatly.

“Those are some bold words from someone who’s hair looks like every stereotypical emo kid ever,” Gladstone shot back, gently ruffling Donald’s hair.

The action earned him an annoyed quack and a hand swatting his arm away, “I’d rather look emo than like a dinosaur!” he snapped, his annoyed look holding a sort of tenderness to it.

Gladstone laughed lightly, trying to ignore the buzz in his brain. The alcohol was setting in, and he found himself wanting to make decisions he would definitely regret later, “Well, if you’re that bothered by it, I’ll change it...” his voice was so quiet, gentle.

They were sitting closer, hands laced together. Gladstone felt a weight in his stomach, his better judgment clouded. He swallowed, face hot, briefly wondering if the couple in the boat could see them, or even knew who they were.

In the end, it really didn’t matter, did it?

“Donald...” he muttered, moving to close the space between them, “Can I... just...”

The grip on his hand tightened. Donald didn’t push away, following Gladstone’s lead and moving forward.

So close, just a little closer...

+

A sharp intake of breath, wide eyes and a quick heartbeat was not how Gladstone pictured waking up in the morning, but here he was, gaze fixed on the ceiling of his five star hotel room.

He swallowed, blinking several times, body still trying to process what exactly that was. He knew what that was. He _remembered_ that night, still so vivid despite how long ago it was.

That begs the question, “Why _that_ dream...?” he slowly sat up, the question repeating itself as he rubbed his tired eyes.

He wasn’t sure why he even asked the question. He knew the answer. He knew why he could still feel the weight of Donald’s hand in his, why the buzzing of alcohol still seemed to affect him even after he’d woken up.

He shook his head, trying to ignore his heavy his heart felt, or how hollow his chest was. He really missed Donald...

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone wants me to, I had a part two for this fic in mind that I’d be willing to write...


End file.
